


Retreat and Parry

by SarahSezLove



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Romance, Secret Snarry Swap 2018, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-08-29 23:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16753192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahSezLove/pseuds/SarahSezLove
Summary: When Severus Snape refuses the hand of friendship, he has to live with the consequences. Thank goodness for Dumbledore, who understood Snape’s hatred of all things Christmas and planned accordingly.





	Retreat and Parry

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you for a prompt that inspired me to take the plunge and write my first ever Snarry. I sincerely hope I did your idea a vague sort of justice. 
> 
> Prompt 13 from alisanne: Severus hates holiday pomp and circumstance, so he decides to vacation in the tropics, where he runs into Harry Potter, also on holiday.

High in a cerulean sky, the sun shone eye-wateringly bright in its intensity. A light breeze, just enough to lift the verbena leaves into a melodic whisper, did nothing to reduce the heat of the afternoon. Insects droned about their business, dipping into rainbow blossoms and generally ignoring the man reclining on a padded chair on his small, beachside veranda. Those stupid enough to whirr too close to his prodigious nose were flapped lazily away with a sleepy murmur of disapproval.

Behind closed eyes, Severus Snape, lulled by the heat, the soporific drone of insects and the heady aroma of the lush vegetation around him, lay somewhere between sleep and waking. This was nothing unusual for a man on holiday. For a man who’d lived his life on his wits, however, who’d had to be on constant alert to the dangers around him in order to stay alive, this level of relaxation was something he’d strived hard for. Only in _this_ place could he allow himself to fully relax and let go of the mental barriers he erected at all other times. And it showed. _This_ Severus Snape, if he did but know it, bore little resemblance to the dungeon vampire-bat of Hogwarts; the harsh, charcoal slashes of his perpetual scowl had softened, smudged and blended into something more aesthetically pleasing, and a light tan replaced the sallowness of days spent inside; his hair was shorter, layered more closely to his head and beginning to grey slightly at the temples. His casual attire of chinos and an open-necked shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned forearms, bore no sign of his trademark black, and went a long way toward dispelling the image of the past.

After the final battle, Severus had found himself surprisingly – and somewhat distressingly – alive: something he hadn’t really anticipated. Oh, he’d squirreled away funds in both the magical and Muggle worlds in preparation, but had only expected to use his escape routes when he no longer had a choice, always supposing Voldemort had given him time to activate his emergency Portkey in that blink of reptilian eye between realising Snape’s duplicity and killing the man who’d played him for a fool. The one thing Severus had never really expected was that the annoying brat-child, Harry Potter, would actually succeed. Not only succeed, but then set about saving those he considered worthy - himself and the Malfoys included - from the machinations of the Ministry, which had sought to score quick political gains from the revenge-lust of the people. Potter had stood his ground in the face of popular condemnation, confidently given evidence in numerous Wizarding trials, and watched Severus walk free, a smile on his boyish face and an outstretched hand. Severus had accepted neither.

It was this single point in time that Severus continually revisited in his dreams: that smile and outstretched hand mocking him as his dream-self ached to take it, to embrace the acceptance it stood for. Like a perfect Pensieve memory you had the chance to meander through and study in detail, he could focus on Harry’s face and observe every nuance of feeling he’d missed in the real moment. Harry Potter had never been hard to read, his emotions always just bubbling under the surface – usually anger when his gaze was directed at his most despised professor. Not this time, however. Severus had seen nervousness in the slight tremor at the corners of his smiling mouth, and trepidation in his eyes, the arrogance usually attributed to the Boy Who Lived curiously absent. No matter how many times his dream-self stood in this place, Severus couldn’t account for the change. He watched, yet again, as the hand and smile faltered. 

As always, just when he thought it might actually happen, that the past could be rewritten with the simple acceptance of an outstretched hand, he jerked awake with his breath stuttering in his throat and his skin clammy. Much as he wished he didn’t, Severus had to assimilate the past into the present, and those few seconds of waking always disorientated him. He breathed in deeply and sat up and forward, reaching for the small bell sitting on the table next to him. One sharp ring and a tea tray appeared. The act of pouring the gently steaming liquid into the dainty, floral cup – he’d never had two cups the same in all the time he’d spent here – and adding a lemon slice was enough to banish the residual feelings. He drank deeply and sighed his appreciation. As usual, the island elves had provided perfectly steeped tea at his preferred drinking temperature. Bliss. He continued to sip the brew as he stared out towards the ocean.

A movement out on the beach caught his attention, and Severus shaded his eyes as he watched a figure standing in the distance at the ocean’s edge. He couldn’t make out any features, the bright sunlight transforming him - definitely a him - into silhouette. There was something about this unknown man, however, the first person Severus had seen since arriving at The Retreat four days ago, that tugged at him and made him sit up straighter: a familiarity in the stance, maybe, or was it the hair that floated in wild abandon around his head, the Caribbean winds coming more sharply across the open waters? Whatever it was, Severus’ breath once again caught in his throat, and he stood quickly, his heart beating loudly in his ears. Surely it was just the remnants of his dream and not Harry Potter standing out there? As he watched, the figure turned and moved slowly along the water’s edge, a limping gait making it obvious this person was not whole of body.

“Not Harry, then,” Severus whispered quietly to himself, unaware he’d even spoken out loud. Sinking back on to his recliner, he continued to track the figure’s movements until he could no longer be seen. The feeling of lethargy that suddenly seemed to sink over him like a weighted blanket should not have been a welcome one, yet it meant his heart rate was slowing, his blood pressure dropping. He breathed deeply for more than a minute, concentrating on the air going in and out of his lungs and visualising himself in a calmed state. When he was sure his body’s response to the thought of Harry Potter being on this island was back to normal, he opened his eyes.

Sweet Merlin, if just the possibility of a _sighting_ of Harry Potter could have such a physical effect on his body, how the hell would he ever manage to get through an actual meeting? Severus knew the day was coming when he needed to put past mistakes behind him in order to be able to move on. Nearly four years was way too long to wait for closure, years that had brought him to the brink of self-destruction. Thank Merlin for Dumbledore – and who’d have thought he’d feel such gratitude to the twinkly-eyed, manipulative old bastard - and this yearly opportunity to get away from everything. Without this time to totally relax and unwind, Severus was convinced he’d have given up long before now and just let death take him. 

Standing and pushing his feet into the canvas shoes he’d removed earlier, Severus stepped from the veranda onto the white sand. Relaxing too long on the recliner had left him stiff and aching, and a walk in the sunshine would definitely help to loosen up his muscles. He walked down to the water’s edge and stared out into the distance. Had anyone ever told him he’d one day spend time on a magical Caribbean island, his every need being catered to by unobtrusive island elves, he’d have mocked them mercilessly. Yet here he was, thousands of miles from anything remotely connected to his daily life, and he had Albus Dumbledore to thank for it. Dumbledore, knowing of Severus’ aversion to Christmas, had bequeathed him a yearly stay at The Retreat for the duration of his lifetime. For Severus, it was a literal life-saver. No more fighting his way through hordes of harried shoppers. No more sickly sweet carol warblings emanating from every other shop on Diagon Alley. No more cheery Christmas charms that sent mistletoe to float above unsuspecting victims. No more holding himself back from casting the full array of Unforgiveables on the next hapless imbecile who had the audacity to use the words merry and Christmas in the same sentence. Severus smiled to himself, before turning away from the water and walking along the shoreline in the opposite direction to the footprints of the shadow man. He was determined to walk until tiredness took him into a dreamless night.

Woken by the sun shining through the chink in the curtains, Severus lay with his eyes closed for several minutes, simply savouring the sound of the waves and unknown seabirds crying out to each other. This is what made the Retreat so special; _you_ controlled your time here, deciding not only on what you wanted to do, but whether you wanted to see anyone. For the last three years, Severus had chosen complete isolation. Indeed, he really had no idea who else shared his time on the island or what they got up to while here. The island elves were unobtrusive, providing whatever you needed without popping up every five minutes. If pressed, he’d say the island almost seemed Room of Requirementish, in that things appeared and disappeared at his will. Perfect for someone who’d never welcomed the company of others. Visits over the last three years were exactly what he’d needed and had gone a long way towards healing his damaged health, both physical and mental.

His morning ablutions leisurely completed, Severus gave a short ring of the bell, and his breakfast appeared; porridge accompanied by a small pot of brown sugar, plus an assortment of fresh fruits to tempt even the smallest of appetites. He ate slowly, savouring the crunch of the brown sugar and the tartness of the fruit. Two cups of perfectly brewed coffee later, taken out on the veranda, and he was ready to begin his day. His plan was to explore the flora on the far side of the island, stocking up on fresh potion ingredients whilst he was there. Severus gathered together his satchel, knives, and preservation pouches, and checked he had enough bottled water to last the day. A couple of murmured incantations added sunscreen, a cooling charm and insect repellent – there was no need to court discomfort, after all – and he was ready to set off.

Emerging from the trees on to the far end of the beach, Severus came to a sudden halt as he realised he was no longer alone. Ahead of him, he assumed, was the man he’d seen the previous day. He was seated on the sand, his back against a large rock that jutted tall, one leg stretched out in front of him, his face and body in profile. Even from this distance, Severus could hear the man, cussing volubly if his pained tone of voice was anything to go by. It was a voice he was familiar with.

_This was it, then._ The time to face his demons was finally here; no warning, no preparation. Severus breathed deeply, centring himself as his therapist had taught him to do, in order to remain aware of what his body was trying to tell him. He was determined not to let it fail him and stepped forward, ready to do battle once more.

“ _Fifty_ points from Gryffindor for your appalling use of the English language, Mr Potter.” Severus Snape, the dungeon bat of Hogwarts, sneered as his shadow loomed over the seated man. He almost laughed out loud at the comical look of open-mouthed shock on his face. 

“ _Snape?_ ” That was all, before Harry’s shocked face was wiped clean of all expression. If Severus hadn’t seen it for himself, he would never have believed the boy could so successfully hide his emotions behind such a stony façade. _Interesting._

An uncomfortable silence followed, one which Severus was determined not to break. His hand clenched tightly around the strap of his satchel, and he knew his heart rate had increased, could feel his heart pounding, but he strove to keep his stance open and relaxed, determined to give nothing of his inner turmoil away. His gaze missed nothing as he watched Harry look out towards the ocean, obviously intent on ignoring the man standing over him. Whilst his face might be expressionless, the clenching of his jaw was proof Harry was affected more by this meeting than pure surprise at seeing his old professor, however, and Severus took that as a good sign. The silence stretched until,

“Well, sit down if you’re staying. I’ve got enough aches and pains without adding neck problems to the list,” grumbled Harry, his eyes still trained on the distant horizon. His don’t-care attitude was fooling no one, so Severus stepped over the outstretched leg, and sank down gratefully on to the warm sand, leaning back against the weather-smoothed rock and stretching both legs out in front of him. It had been a very long and fruitful day, and it was a relief to set down his now bulging, and heavy, satchel.

“I hate sand, Mr Potter,” he said seriously, “please know I shall use the nastiest hex I can think of if I find myself having to remove it from any part of my body that is currently covered.” He turned his head and looked Harry straight in the eye. As he’d expected, Harry’s gaze was drawn to him, and it flittered the length of Severus’ body, noting his uncovered hands and face. He snickered suddenly,

“I’m sure nothing would _dare_ breach the boundaries of your clothes, Snape,” he said, before snapping his mouth shut and looking suddenly mutinous. _Ahhhh._ Just as Severus had expected, Harry was not happy to see him and certainly didn’t want to converse with his former, much-hated, professor.

They sat in silence for several minutes, each caught up in their own internal thoughts. Severus could only guess at what was going on in Harry’s head. He watched him surreptitiously from the corner of his eye, noticing the tenseness of his body and the rhythmic kneading of his thigh. If he was in pain or discomfort – and Severus was sure he was – he was obviously determined not to show it. Determined to get some kind of reaction, Severus unbuttoned his cuffs and slowly rolled his sleeves up his forearms. He pretended not to notice how Harry’s eyes flickered to the faded tattoo. He unlaced his walking boots and pulled them off, placing them neatly to one side. His socks followed, and he then concentrated on rolling up his lightweight trousers to just below his knees. His legs were paler than his arms, though similarly smattered with dark hair, and he stretched them out straight again and wiggled his toes.

With no warning, Severus turned his head and captured Harry’s gaze with his own, noting the faint flush that rose up his neck. His eyes narrowed assessingly. _Even more interesting._ The temptation to Legilimise him was strong, just an inkling of Harry’s thoughts could have assured him he was on the right path, but he resisted temptation. If Severus were to stand any chance of moving forward with his life, he needed absolute honesty. And humility. He definitely wasn’t looking forward to the latter.

“I owe you a long-overdue apology, Mr Potter.”

For the second time, Harry’s jaw literally dropped open in astonishment, and Severus couldn’t resist commenting, “You really should try not to look so _Gryffindorkish._ It isn’t a good look for you, you know.” Humility only went so far, it seemed. He smirked openly at Harry’s look of outrage. _Damn, he’d missed this._

“I’m not interested in anything you have to say, Snape, so you’re wasting your time,” he bit out.

“Nevertheless, I am asking you to listen, Harry.” Severus might have changed, but he wasn’t above using manipulation when the situation required it. The use of Harry’s given name, the first time he’d ever addressed him as such, was a calculated move. He watched his dart hit home.

“You’ve never…”, Harry stopped, obviously embarrassed at having reacted to something so insignificant. He sat up straighter, his face once again smoothing out so no emotion showed, “So let me get this straight, Snape. You want me to listen to your apologies which, let’s face it, could take all day, and then, what?” Harry no longer looked quite so calm, and his voice was becoming more strident, “We’re all good? We go on our merry way? Exchange Christmas cards, maybe? How…”

“I don’t do Christmas, so there will be no exchanging of cards,” Severus interrupted. He wasn’t sure why, but this overly controlled Harry was starting to seriously piss him off and, right now, he just wanted a reaction from him.

“ _Fuck you, Snape!_ ” Harry spat, attempting to push himself up so he could escape, but he was obviously in pain and unable to do so. His breath was coming in short bursts now, and all attempts at a calm exterior were gone. Severus realised he hated seeing Harry like this. He’d wanted a reaction, but not to hurt this brave young man. Hadn’t he done enough of that already? He reached out, not even sure what he intended to do, but was rebuffed as Harry tried to scoot away from him, his breath heaving erratically, his obviously injured leg jerking and causing him to groan audibly.

“ _Don’t!_ Please. Just leave me alone.” The defeat in Harry’s voice was evident, as he slumped back against the rock, his eyes closed. Severus watched him in concern, before reaching into an outer pocket of his satchel.

“When was the last time you took a pain potion, Mr Potter?” he asked tightly, “Here, take this,” and he pressed a vial into Harry’s hand, not waiting for an answer. “Don’t argue for the sake of it, please. You don’t need me to tell you there’s no need for pain when I have potions on me.” Severus watched as Harry flipped the lid and tossed the viscous liquid back, shuddering theatrically.

“I see you still haven’t made these any more palatable,” he complained, his eyes closing as the greyish tinge around his mouth began to fade, and his breathing evened out. Severus watched him closely, checking for any adverse reactions to a potion Harry would not have had access to before. It was a newer variation of his patented pain potion, this version including further muscle relaxants and a calming element. He was still the most sought after potions’ master of his generation.

Without a word, Severus reached for the empty vial that had been tossed on to the sand and tucked it back into his satchel. The old Snape would have berated his student for not checking what he was being given. _Constant vigilance_ and all that crap. Inside, where the new – and hopefully improved – Severus lived, however, he was quietly rejoicing at the inherent display of trust Harry had just shown him, even after all this time. Surely this was a positive sign?

“So you want to apologise?” Harry interrupted Severus’ inner musings, his voice calm and with no hint of the anger of just a few moments ago. _Damn, that new stuff was good._ He still leant back against the rock, his eyes closed, as if he really didn’t give a fuck for anything Severus had to say and didn’t want to look at him saying it. Severus waited, sure there was more to come. “Why should I listen?” He turned his head towards Severus, spearing him with a now direct gaze. Severus swallowed. Hard. There was so much melancholy in that look. So much emotional pain and, only now, could he recognise he was responsible for a lot of it. “Tell me,” continued Harry, “will your apology wipe the slate clean? Will confessing your sins mean you can start over with a clear conscience?” He laughed mirthlessly, and it grated across Severus’ guilt like fingernails on his potions’ room chalkboard. “What makes you more special than the rest of us, huh?”

_This was it._ No more prevarication. No more subterfuge. Here was the one and only chance for Severus Snape to put himself on the line and tell the absolute truth. He understood it would make him vulnerable, but it was the very least he owed Harry. Even if his apology and explanation were ignored or, worse, ridiculed, he was being true to himself. Some days, that was the only thing that kept him going. 

“When you…” Severus stopped, swallowing audibly before continuing, “when you held out your hand to me, that day at the Ministry, I wanted _so_ desperately to take it.”

“Then why didn’t you? You must have known I wasn’t trying to trick you, for fuck’s sake.” There was a pleading note in Harry’s voice that was hard to ignore.

“You were so clean. So bright and good. _And I wasn’t._ I felt so dirty. Unclean, the taint of evil ingrained into my skin, and it was never coming off. How could I sully you with that? I knew you’d forgiven me. I knew you were offering your hand in friendship, and I didn’t deserve it. Would never deserve it.” Without realising it, Severus rubbed his hand backward and forward across the faded dark mark, as if in comfort.

“That’s a load of rubbish, Snape! You’re not evil.” Harry was quick to defend him. “We wouldn’t have won the war without you. _I_ wouldn’t be here without you.” Harry tried to shift around so he could actually face Severus, but his leg wouldn’t bend enough to let him. He huffed with impatience.

“Potter, for Merlin’s sake, will you stop trying to undo the good work of the healing potion I was good enough to provide for you. I assume you’re here recuperating from an injury you acquired on Auror duty?” He couldn’t quite conceal the sneer in his voice. Harry nodded at him but didn’t take the bait, too impatient to hear more from Severus rather than to discuss himself.

“So, if you felt like that four years ago, what’s happened to change your mind? Why now?” The seriousness of his face told Severus Harry wanted to know everything and wouldn’t be fobbed off with half-truths and evasion. It was time to lay himself bare, and to trust another with his most intimate secrets, not something that had ever come easy to the naturally secretive Slytherin. He took a deep breath.

“When I Apparated away that day, I had no intention of ever seeing you again. Or anyone.” 

“ _NO!_ Harry’s face lost all colour as he interrupted Severus, reaching forward, as if to grab Severus’ hand. Severus recoiled sharply. He couldn’t let empathy get in the way of what he needed to do.

“I don’t need your _pity_ , Mr Potter,” he sneered, “what use is that to me or anyone?”

“I don’t pity you, you great git. I don’t do pity. It’s a waste of time and energy,” Harry rubbed at his leg rather tellingly. “I might have hated you, sure, but honestly? It’s too bloody tiring to keep it up. I just hate to think that _anyone_ could feel so hopeless. _Even you._ ” His look dared Severus to argue with him. Severus raised a mocking eyebrow, leaving Harry in no doubt the _how Gryffindor_ comment went without saying. Then he was serious again.

“When I left you, I wasn’t suicidal. At least, I wasn’t considering doing anything drastic. I didn’t know what I was doing, just that I needed to be away from anyone who might be tainted by me.” In hindsight, Severus realised his mental anguish was so great, there was no way he could have accepted anything from anyone, particularly the one who had saved him. How could he have ever touched something so pure as the boy who lived, when he himself was so tainted? Severus remembered how Apparating away from Harry’s outstretched hand had almost been a reflex, the action of a wounded animal whose only choices were snapping at the helping hand or fleeing in pain and fear. He’d chosen the latter. 

He shook his head sharply at the interruption he knew was coming, gratified to see Harry having the decency to really listen to him.

“I spent three months holed up in my childhood home, not going out, barely eating enough to survive, and ignoring all owls. I’d have stayed there – died there – if that nosy tabby, Minerva, hadn’t tiptoed through my wards and forced me to St Mungo’s.” Severus stopped then, remembering how his friend and colleague had appeared, her Scottish brogue almost unrecognisable in her upset at the state he was in. He thought perhaps it was the shock of seeing the levels to which he’d sunk – surrounded as he was by the detritus of months of apathy - rather than his physical state, that had been the most shocking. He never stood a chance against her, and was in St Mungo’s within an hour.

“Although my physical state was poor – I’d barely eaten enough to stay alive and my magic had depleted itself trying to undo the damage I was doing to my body – it was, apparently my mental state which caused the most concern.”

Severus could see that Harry was dying to interrupt, but he just wanted to get this out as quickly, and painlessly, as possible,

“I’ll answer any questions, Mr Potter, but I’d appreciate you allowing me to finish first.” Harry nodded to him, his expression much more open than it had been only minutes before. Severus was hopeful this wasn’t only due to the pain potion he had administered, but that Harry was becoming more receptive to his explanation.

Severus continued to explain how the most important medical condition affecting his recovery was his blood pressure and how it had become dangerously high, fluctuating for no seeming rhyme or reason, and was non-responsive to any potion regimen. Fortunately, one of the medi-wizards realised his volatile mental state held a direct correlation to his physiological state. He contacted his Squib cousin, a therapist who specialised in post-traumatic stress, particularly with those in the armed forces who had been in war-torn countries. The therapist had encouraged him to face his demons, to look honestly at himself and his actions, to understand his self-loathing and hatred, and to accept responsibility for his thoughts and deeds. It hadn’t been easy. No one really wanted to hold up a mirror to every terrible thing they’d ever thought and done, especially in front of someone else. But he’d embraced the honesty and taken his time, working with the therapist on calming his body, as well as his mind, until there were few triggers to his raised heartrate and blood pressure.

When he’d finished his explanation, Severus couldn’t bring himself to look too closely at Harry, so he pushed himself up from the sand and moved several feet away and stared off towards the darkening horizon. It had been a long, busy day, and he was suddenly feeling both mentally and physically exhausted. It didn’t help that he still considered himself unworthy, still just as unclean as he’d been the day Harry had held out his hand, stunned to his very core that the saviour, the shining light of the wizarding world, would want to be near someone as evil and tainted as he, Severus, had been. Almost inaudibly, he whispered,

“Imagine living your whole life focused around the _worst_ thing you’ve ever done.” He turned. “And then imagine how you’d feel once you’d finally paid your debt.” He waited for Harry to rail at him, to tell him his debt would never be paid, that he didn’t deserve to be forgiven. Instead, Harry looked at Severus, his eyes serious and intense, 

“Imagine living your whole life focused around the _best_ thing you ever did. How would it feel knowing everyone expects you to live your whole life on that kind of high?” Harry’s voice sounded just and tired and defeated.

Severus moved forward and dropped to his knees in front of Harry,

“I’m sorry, Harry. Sorry for all the times I treated you so poorly, throwing your father in your face. Sorry for making it impossible for you to learn Occlumency. Sorry for so many things. Most of all, I’m sorry for not taking your hand that day you saved me from the Ministry.” Severus breathed deeply and slowly let his breath out in relief. _Finally!_ He’d got it out. He could feel his elevated heart rate, but it was nowhere near the danger zone, thank Merlin. He waited, unable to read Harry’s expression, but expecting the worst. Expecting exactly what he deserved.

Seconds passed in silence, then Harry sat forward, bringing his face nearer to Severus.

“Bloody hell, my arse is going numb on this hard sand.” He held out his hands, smiling. “Help me up, would you, Severus?”

Stunned, this time the one with his mouth open in an unbecoming gape, Severus stood, and then reached out his hands and grasped Harry’s. They were warm and felt utterly right clasped in his, exactly as he’d known they would and so much better than a dream. He pulled gently, helping to ease Harry up from the sand.

“Careful getting up with your leg, Mr Potter. Don’t be more of a dunderhead than you possibly have to. Contrary to popular belief, it’s not a Gryffindor prerequisite, you know.”

Harry snickered appreciatively, coming slowly up off the sand, but stumbling into Severus’ arms as his stiffened leg refused to take too much of his weight. They both stilled, shocked statues who’d suddenly found themselves entwined rather than separate. Severus knew he should step away before he totally embarrassed himself and undid every good thing that had happened in the past hour. But sweet Merlin, Harry felt good in his arms. He was just readying himself to take a step back when a small popping sound could be heard above their heads. _Oh good grief!_ Severus wanted to hang his head in shame. Could this get any more humiliating? Thank goodness the light was fading fast now, and Harry wouldn’t be able to see the mortification on his face. 

“Oops,” whispered Harry, as they both caught sight of the small sprig of mistletoe hovering above them. “Was that you or me, Severus?”

Severus brought a hand up to Harry’s cheek, stroking it gently as he looked deeply into Harry’s eyes. He leaned down, his breath ghosting over Harry’s parted lips.

“I don’t do Christmas, Mr Potter.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment here or at [LiveJournal](https://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3852752.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1785201.html), or [Dreamwidth](https://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/1104420.html).


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